


A Change of Pace

by kitana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-20
Updated: 2009-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitana/pseuds/kitana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now Dean’s older *and* taller, and that’s just not fair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Pace

When Sam wakes up the morning after dispatching an unusually large coven of witches – all men this time, go figure – he realizes that, after spending half the morning with Dean, he's been staring up at Dean the entire time. Sam nearly has a heart attack and dies right then and there.  
   
Alright, so it isn't that severe. Nevertheless, Sam is disturbed. And the worst part about it? Dean doesn’t seem to notice, which makes Sam wonder what else escapes Dean’s notice at any given time.  
   
"Dean," he broaches cautiously, as Dean is scarfing down some greasy lunch-like food, "You notice anything odd going on?"  
   
“Like?” Dean says around a mouthful, before wiping his mouth. He grins at Sam from across the table. “You feeling tingly in your parts, Sammy?”  
   
Sam rolls his eyes. “Not tingly, but I’ve got this, uh, feeling anyway. Can you stand up for a sec?”  
   
Dean looks down at his half-finished plate and then at Sam, but before he can open his mouth to protest, Sam says: “You can finish in a minute, just stand up, okay?”  
   
So Dean does, and Sam after him, and it’s then that Sam actually has to concede that he isn’t just having one hell of a hallucination. He’d have preferred to be tripping out on some kind of supernatural acid, if given the choice, but of course, Sam doesn’t get choices like that. Finally, it clicks in Dean’s brain as well, and Dean just makes an ‘hmph’ kind of noise.  
   
“Switched us, the bastards,” Sam says, looking up at Dean. He can’t help but feel fifteen again, the last year he spent being shorter than Dean. Now Dean’s older  _and_  taller, and that’s just not fair.  
   
Sam isn’t pouting at all. Really.  
   
“Nah, not switched,” Dean muses, seating himself at the diner booth again. “Not really, anyway. More like shrank you. Or grew me. Either way, we’ll just have to go kick ass a second time and make them fix us.”  
   
Dean’s certainty about the matter is mildly comforting. Until Dean finishes his plate and adds, only half-seriously, “Though short’s not a bad look on you.”  
   
Then it’s downright distressing.  
   
Sam wonders if throttling Dean in public would be worth the aftermath.  
   


*

  
   
It’s both pleasant and disheartening to know that he and Dean scared the witches so bad that they’ve gone completely underground. Pleasant, because that means that those Satan-related scare tactics work; disheartening, because now he’s got to figure out how to lure the assholes back into the open.  
   
Dean isn’t helping on that front, either.  
   
“Could you be any less smug, Dean? I can feel it from across the damn room.”  
   
Dean flicks through another television channel, slides his eyes over to regard Sam. “Me? I’m not doin’ anything.”  
   
“Exactly!” Sam says exasperated, but really, it’s not that. He just knows Dean is over there gloating about his newfound height advantage, no matter how temporary.  
   
“Relax, Sam. We’re going to get you your extra inches back. Besides, I was always under the impression that being six feet was a good thing.”  
   
“Not for me,” Sam says, and no, that isn’t petulance in his voice.  
   
“Yeah, I get that, freak show.” Sam doesn’t reply immediately, lost in typical brooding, so Dean slides off of the bed and says, “Hey, how ‘bout I take your mind off of things?”  
   
Sam makes a noncommittal noise, staring ahead at his laptop. Sam flinches, unprepared, when Dean’s hand comes around to his chin and tilts his head back, forcing his gaze away from the computer. Dean leans down and kisses Sam then, holding Sam’s chin so that Sam can’t pull away as Dean slides his tongue between Sam’s lips.  
   
The difference, being upside-down, being on the receiving end of the kiss, is so stark that when Dean pulls away, Sam’s breathless, hard, and his fingers have curled into his palms without his permission.  
   
Dean lets Sam go, and Sam is out of his chair and pressed up against Dean in point-five second flat. The height difference is the least of Sam’s worries now, because he’s too busy palming the back of Dean’s neck to pull him down, wanting Dean to kiss him like that again.  
   
Dean just goes with it, pushing his fingers into Sam’s hair and nipping at Sam’s lip. Sam’s other hand joins the first one around Dean’s neck, and then he’s just holding on as Dean molests his mouth and draws moans deep from within him; Sam doesn’t even realize how girly it might look until he pulls away and Dean has this triumphant look on his face.  
   
“Thought you weren’t gloating,” Sam says and makes to scowl, but Dean just rolls his hips and Sam pushes back instinctively, his hard cock almost perfectly aligned with Dean’s.  
   
“’m not,” Dean says, and his hands go from Sam’s hair to palm both of Sam’s ass cheeks.  
   
Sam can’t argue much when Dean’s kneading his ass through his jeans, so he just walks Dean backwards to his bed, toppling over only a little uncoordinatedly when Dean’s knees hit the edge. Dean rolls them both over, so that Sam’s beneath him, and fuck if being smothered in Dean isn’t the hottest thing Sam’s encountered to date.  
   
He’d rethink the whole height thing, but Dean’s lips have latched on to his neck, and he can’t think much at all beyond the slickness of Dean’s tongue and the suddenly insistent throbbing of his cock against his jeans. It’s almost painful, the way his dick is pushing up the crotch of his pants.  
   
As if they’re on the same wavelength, Dean shifts away from Sam’s neck, leaning back on his haunches to straddle Sam’s lap, and starts pushing Sam’s shirt up and off. Sam wiggles out of it and leans up to do the same for Dean, watching Dean’s muscles flex as the shirt is tugged over his head. Sam has to wonder if his mind is playing more tricks on him, because Dean isn’t just taller, he looks all around bigger than Sam.  It really shouldn’t be as hot as it is.  
   
Sam feels Dean watching him – his gaze travels up to see amusement on Dean’s face – as his hands tug at Dean’s belt buckle and gets Dean’s fly open. He’s greeted with pale, bare skin and flushed cock.  
   
“Nice day to go commando, Dean,” he says, all his attention on the head of Dean’s dick poking out of his jeans.  
   
“A man’s gotta breathe sometime,” Dean responds. Then, at Sam’s fixed attention on his cock, he adds, “You wanna?”  
   
“Yeah,” Sam says, and Dean slides off Sam. He kicks off his jeans, settles back against the headboard of the bed, watching Sam shuck off his own pants and climb in between his legs. Dean isn’t going to ever get enough of the way Sam looks right before he’s going to swallow down all eight inches of Dean’s dick.  
   
Dean’s dick twitches when Sam’s face gets close; he doesn’t even bother to hold his groan in when Sam’s lips first slide over the head. Sam moans as he fits all of Dean’s cock inside until he’s flush with Dean’s pubes; his throat flutters around the thickness stretching it open, and he slides his tongue up the fat vein that runs up the underside before popping off of Dean’s cock and taking it down again, over and over.  
   
Dean tries his best to stay still and not choke Sam with his dick, but it’s hard when Sam is slurping and moaning obscenely around it, holding his own cock so that he doesn’t come from just having his throat stuffed full.  
   
“God, Sammy, so hungry for it,” Dean groans, pushing Sam’s hair back so he can see exactly the way Sam’s lips stretch. Sam’s eyes flicker up to pin Dean with a lusty look, and Dean can feel the spurt of precome that slides down Sam’s throat. “Fuck, can’t have you making me come before I fuck you, get the duffel.”  
   
Sam does, but not without one last hard suck that nearly makes Dean shoot off right then. The taste of Dean’s cock is all over Sam’s mouth as he reaches for the duffel next to the bed, and he can’t help but lick his swollen lips.  
   
“Me or you?” Sam asks, holding up the bottle of lube.  
   
“You do it,” Dean says, fisting his wet cock slowly.

They arrange themselves on the bed so that Dean can watch Sam as squirts the lube on his fingers, fitting his still long, slim fingers inside of himself. Sam's head hangs off the edge of the bed as he rocks back on his fingers; he can feel Dean's gaze on him, taking in the upward curve of his dripping cock and the slippery disappearance of Sam's fingers inside of himself. Sam twists his fingers inside of himself and says, on a gasp, “Ready for it, Dean.”

Sam wraps his slick fingers around his cock as Dean fits himself between his legs. Sam is covered by Dean completely as Dean slides inside, and Sam can't help but wrap his legs around Dean's waist and push up against that solid weight, the stretch and burn of Dean's cock giving way to warm pleasure that spreads through him.

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam moans when Dean is seated flush inside of him. “It's like you're fucking bigger all over.”

“Yeah, you like that, huh, Sammy?” Dean says, more of a statement than a question, thrusting deep into Sam.

Dean is thick and hard and his pace is punishing, sending sparks up Sam's spine on every thrust. Sam groans, getting an arm around Dean's neck, 'cause at this rate Dean's going to fuck him straight off the bed. All the blood in Sam's body is split, trying to rush both to his cock and to his head hanging off the bed and Sam feels dizzy with it.

Sam jerks his cock, so close that he's almost too sensitive; Dean leans down to sink his teeth into Sam's neck, and that's it, that's all it takes for Sam to fly apart, groaning Dean's name and spilling thickly all over his hand, both of their bellies.

Dean pumps into Sam a few more times before he comes too, filling Sam up. Sam shifts and struggles to get his head back on the bed, and Dean sprawls lazily next to him.

“Not too bad, this height thing. Might have to thank those witches,” Dean says, wrapping an arm around Sam and pulling him close.

“Mmm,” Sam murmurs, as if he's agreeing with Dean. Then he says, “Still gonna make 'em pay, though.”


End file.
